


Relatives and Revelations

by Antarctica_or_bust



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But at least he's sorry this time, Crack, Durin Family, F/M, Family Feels, Family Secrets, Fíli and Kíli Brotherly Love, Half-Elf, Implied Relationships, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Melodrama, Mirkwood, Protective Fíli, Protective Thorin, Thranduil is Only Kinda a Dick, Uncle Thorin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 14:23:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/749519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antarctica_or_bust/pseuds/Antarctica_or_bust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kíli meets his real father and discovers that family is family no matter your blood.<br/>(Or the one where Kíli is half-elf and Thranduil has some groveling to do)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relatives and Revelations

**Author's Note:**

> I had to screw with the timeline to make this remotely plausible, so we're just going to pretend that it's only been about 80 years since Erebor fell.

The elf king is staring at him. 

Thranduil is subtle about it, but every few seconds Kíli feels his eyes again and it's starting to freak the archer out. This whole situation is a bit weird since he was pretty sure that he was supposed to be in the dungeons with the others and the dwarf had been headed that way until the pretty elven captain pulled him from the line.

Although the rest of his company had protested fiercely, they hadn't been able to stop this separation, but instead of taking Kíli off for some nefarious torture, the captain just led him to another chamber and made him wash his face and hands. 

Once the dwarf prince was scrubbed to her satisfaction, the captain had brought him here for the most uncomfortable meal of his short life; which, now that he thinks about it, could be considered a form of torture on its own. Because the only people in this hall are Kíli, Thranduil, and a few scattered guards and none of the elves have said a word since he arrived. Indeed, the elf king seems to prefer staring at his guest to eating and the prince can only ignore his gaze so long.

“Okay, look, that's enough. Did you actually want something or are you just going to eye me up like a creeper for the rest of the night?” Kíli asks in annoyance when Thranduil ogles him one too many times. “If this is some kind of weird romance thing, I should tell you now that it isn't gonna work between us because you're far too old for my tastes and I don't do elves anyway.”

Perhaps the dwarf shouldn't be talking to his captor in this manner but it's rather hard for him to take the elf king seriously when he's dressed in some kind of translucent bathrobe, and the gobsmacked expression on Thranduil's face will be worth the punishment.

“ **No!** No. I assure you that I am **not** trying to court you. There is simply something I must know,” the elf king replies fiercely, putting at least one worry to rest in Kíli's mind. In fact, it doesn't actually like he's going to be punished either, since Thranduil is too busy trying to gather the shreds of his dignity together to summon any guards.

“I'm not going to tell you anything about our journey, not without my leader's permission.” the prince says, eyeing the elf king with suspicion as he leans back in his chair.

“Of course, of course,” Thranduil replies, his smile more creepy than reassuring now. “I simply wish to know your name.”

_My name? Well, I suppose that can't hurt by itself._

“It's Kíli,” the prince mutters shortly, leaving off his parentage in case Thranduil wants leverage to make his uncle talk.

“Kíli, son of some similarly named dwarf, I am sure. Víli or Jíli, perhaps? Or maybe even Quíli, there would be a proper dwarvish moniker.” There is a strange bitterness to the elf king's words but prisoner or no, Kíli will not stand for such mockery.

“If you just brought me here to ridicule my name and parentage, I think I would prefer to be in the dungeons with my comrades,” the archer says angrily, halfway out of his chair by the time he finishes.

“Please, sit. I apologize for any disrespect; there are deeper matters here that you do not understand.” The apology is only half sincere and almost seems to pain the elf king, but even this poor attempt shocks the dwarf back into his chair. “If you would answer just a few more questions?” 

At the Kíli's wary nod, Thranduil actually smiles faintly before continuing his odd interrogation with a series of questions that make no sense at all. “You must be young for a dwarf; how many years have you seen? And your mother, who was she?”

“I assure you that I am old enough to be here,” the prince answers hotly, his age still something of a sore point as the youngest amongst Thorin's company. “But if you must know, I have lived nearly seventy-eight years, and my mother is called Dís by those who know her well.”

The dwarf's words impact Thranduil almost as a physical blow, the elf's shoulders bowing as though a long suspected burden has finally settled there. Yet Thranduil does not seem angry, instead bestowing Kíli with a fondly reminiscent smile as the prince decides that this is definitely the weirdest conversation of his life.

“That would be Dís, daughter of Thráin, Princess Under the Mountain would it not? Did she ever decide to remarry?”

“Um, yes, that would be her,” Kíli replies, deciding that he might as well be honest if Thranduil already knows his ancestry. “Though mother generally only goes by Dís these days since there's not much to be a princess of anymore. And no, she never remarried; after out father died she's never had the heart.”

The archer really doesn't understand the purpose of these questions, but now that he's fulfilled the elf king's curiosity, he figures that he's owed some answers in returned. “How exactly do you know my mother? I don't believe she's ever mentioned you.”

Thranduil smiles again, that same reminiscent smile which makes the dwarf's skin crawl uneasily. “The Lady Dís and I were well acquainted some years ago, though I am afraid we did not part on the best of terms. However, I am surprised that she never told you the truth about your father.”

“What _about_ my father? I thought he died when Smaug attacked the Lonely Mountain and I was born some months later on the road. Unless... you didn't kill him or something?” the prince asks warily. _Maybe I'd be safer in the dungeons after all._

“What? No, Kíli, I _am_ your father,” the elf king replies and although Kíli tries, he cannot find any falsehood in Thranduil's voice. So he tries harder.

“You have to be joking! Tell me you're joking. This has to be some kind of weird elvish prank and as soon as I freak out, your whole court is going to jump out and laugh at me? Right? **Right**?!!” 

The dwarf looks around wildly but he can't see anyone hidden in the shadows and indeed, Thranduil seems rather taken aback by the string of accusations. He looks almost hurt, actually, and that expression makes Kíli's world tilt dangerously.

“Oh fuck, you're serious. You really think that you're my father. But that's ridiculous,” Kíli says with a shaky laugh. “Of course it is; it's crazy. And I'm hardly going to believe something like that without proof.”

“If you desire proof of your parentage, you need only look at your own skin,” the elf king tells him, obviously deciding to ignore the rest of the archer's babbling. “All of the Sindar are born with a crescent moon upon their skin for the Valar chose to mark us as one people, and as one of my children, you should bear this sign as well.”

At this, Kíli feels a chill run through him, for how could Thranduil have known of his birthmark to speak about it now? But the dwarf isn't ready to give in that easily. “That still doesn't mean anything. You could just be a creeper who had someone watch me change.”

However, Thranduil just returns the prince's suspicions with a perfect condescending stare before pulling aside his collar to reveal a crescent on the elf's own skin. Kíli knows that mark – he has that same sign on his shoulder – and at the sight the dwarf can't run from the truth anymore.

_Fuck!_

Kíli slumps down on his chair in shock, a wave of hysteria bubbling up inside of him. “You're actually my father. _You!_ This is the reason I can't seem to grow a beard, isn't it? And no wonder I'm good at archery. But, shit!... That means m- my mother had a sordid affair with an elf! An elf king! You can't tell anyone about this. No one, you hear me?! Oh the shame... does my uncle know about this? He can't know about this; he hates elves and he'll hate me. Fuck, everyone will hate me!”

This last comes out almost as a wail, Thranduil seeming rather at a loss as he reaches out to pat the dwarf's hand awkwardly. When Kíli looks up, startled at the contact, the elf king gives him what might have been a reassuring smile under other circumstance.

“I swear to you that the Lady Dís and I did not have an affair. Your father was already quite dead by the time we came together. I only wish that we had had more time and things hadn't ended as badly as they did.”

This promise calms Kíli slightly – at least there was no dishonor – but now all he can think about is Thranduil and his mother having sex. Which is not something the prince ever wanted to consider and he removes the elf king's hand with a grimace of disgust.

“I did not need that mental image, thank you. And I'm sure you're a perfectly nice guy or whatever, though the whole imprisonment thing is really not okay, but if you're expecting a happy family reunion, you're going to be disappointed. That is not going to happen. Like at all. Or at least a while. Can I just go back to the dungeons and think things over now?”

The elf king quick agreement proves that he's as uncomfortable with this discussion as the archer, Thranduil signaling his guards to escort Kíli from the room. Although the elf offers his long lost son a proper room, the dwarf asks be imprisoned with the others and a short time later, the guards are leading him into a crowded cell.

As prisons go, it's a rather nice one, more of a cellar than a dungeon, so perhaps Thranduil was trying to be somewhat gracious to his in-laws after all. But at the moment Kíli really does not want to think about his father, the prince much preferring to pretend that the last half hour was a nightmare instead of reality. So Kíli just wraps his arms around Fíli and he buries his head in his brother's shoulder, doing his best to shut out the world entirely. Fíli hugs him back just as hard while the rest of their companions gather around worriedly.

“He didn't hurt you, did he?” Thorin growls, his face easing slightly when Kíli shakes his head.

However, the archer refuses to say anything else about their meeting because he's terrified that his kindred will reject him if they find out the truth. Eventually the other dwarves stop asking and Kíli falls asleep tangled around his brother, the prince worn out from the emotional upheavals that he faced this day.

\---

Kíli wakes to the sound of Thorin threatening someone and he lifts his head to see an elf standing outside their cell. Upon seeing the blond hair and fancy clothes, the dwarf thinks it might be Thranduil and he nearly panics before he realizes that this elf is much too young for that. The new elf is currently glaring at Thorin, but when he sees Kíli stir, he rushes over to stare at him instead.

The archer's head is still muzzy from his nap but he's pretty sure they've never met and so the elf's delighted smile comes as something of a surprise.

“Hah, it is you! It has to be; no wonder father's been in such a tizzy ever since you arrived. What's your name, then? I'm Legolas, Thranduil's youngest, or at least I was. How old are you? Do you like archery?”

Kíli finds himself rather taken aback by the endless wave of questions; although, to be honest, it's kind of nice to have someone be that glad to meet him instead of one of his more majestic relatives. However, he can see Thorin's face darken with each question and so the dwarf tries to stop this Legolas before he gives the truth away. “My name is Kíli since you asked. But, um, how did you know about me? Did Thranduil tell you?”

“Of course not. Father would never admit to his regrets in front of me,” Legolas replies with a practiced roll of his eyes. “I recognize you because you look just like your mother and I remember her when she was here. The two of them were inseparable until everything went wrong but you're back now and this is fantastic; I've always wanted a younger brother, you know.”

“Brother?!” The entire company erupts at this revelation even as Kíli tries to sink into the ground, his face burning hot when everyone turns to stare. 

_Now they're going to hate me,_ the dwarf thinks, watching miserably as his uncle's face turns red with rage.

“Enough!” Thorin roars, the ensuing silence quiet as the grave. “Thranduil may have fathered Kíli but that doesn't give you or that damn elf any right to claim him. He's seventy-nine years too late for that.”

“You knew about this?” Kíli asks, turning wide eyes on his uncle even as Fíli echoes his brother's cry.

“Of course I knew; I was there when they met and I was there when he broke your mother's heart.” Thorin replies, looking at the archer as though he were an idiot. “Thranduil deserves to rot for taking advantage of my grieving widowed sister and getting her with child, but your father's mistakes are not your fault. We named you for her husband to keep anyone from wondering and we've raised you as son of Durin's line. You're as much my sister-son as Fíli is and I've never doubted that, even if you're half an elf as well.”

Kíli runs over to hug his uncle tightly, nearly crying in relief to have all his fears so completely put to rest. With his uncle's seal of approval, the other dwarves gather around and pat him on the shoulders, each of his companions muttering their pride in his as well. Though when the archer finally pulls himself away, he sees Fíli and Legolas glaring at each other through the bars.

“He's _my_ younger brother,” Fíli growls, arms crossed as he stares up at the elf prince. “I'm the one who grew up with him through good and bad and ugly so don't think that you can steal him away from me. You may share a father, but we share a mother and Kíli was mine first.”

“I'm not trying to steal your brother. I just want to borrow him a bit,” Legolas retorts testily, his hands resting on his hips. “Come on, I've been the youngest for almost four hundred years and this is my one chance.” 

Fíli considers this for a long moment and then nods shortly. “Fine, we can share. But I have first priority and there's no way Thranduil gets to talk with him unsupervised until that damn elf shows some remorse for what he's done.”

“Deal!” They shake hands through the bars to seal their agreement before Legolas turns an excited grin Kíli's way. It's almost terrifying in its intensity and the archer wonders what exactly his older brothers have gotten him into this time as he shrinks back beneath that manic stare. 

“We are going to have so much fun,” the elf promises before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a key. “First, we're going to go talk to father and sort this whole mess out because I just know he'll never do it on his own and then I'm taking you under my wing. We'll get you some proper clothes, I can give you a tour... and you have to let me do your hair; I know some elvish braids that would look just lovely with your coloring.”

Legolas unlocks the cell and ushers Thorin's company out before grabbing Kíli's hand and leading him off into the halls as he continues to chatter on excitedly.

“The armory's over that way and the archery range is through there. I'll get you back your weapons and gear after we talk to father, but I think it's best if there aren't any swords around for that conversation. We'll go shooting later too; I'm sure you got the family knack for archery.” The elf prince waves blithely at different hallways, ignoring the startled glances from all the other elves they pass. 

“We're walking by the kitchens now- they're pretty busy today because father's planning another one of his giant parties, but when they aren't working, the cooks are always good for a snack. I'm know they'll love you and your companions – the cooks are always complaining about making the same old dishes, and now that you're here, we have to throw a proper dwarvish feast to welcome you into the family. Ah, here we are...”

One more corner takes the company through the elf king's council chamber and into the throne room where he sits in state. Thranduil's eyes widen when the dwarves walk toward him, the elf king glaring down at his two wayward sons. “What are you doing here? And how exactly did my prisoners escape?”

“Relax father, I let them out,” Legolas answers cheerfully. “You can't go around treating family like that, mother would be ashamed.”

“ _Your_ mother would be far more ashamed that I lay with a dwarrowdam in the first place, and _his_ mother would have to be willing to talk to me to be disappointed,” Thranduil replies, leaning back against his throne with an exasperated sigh. “Yet I suppose you are right and neither of them would approve of treating my guests with such poor hospitality.”

“Of course he's right! But then again your welcome has always been lacking,” Thorin declares, striding to the front of the group and sneering up at the elf.

“Ah, hello Thorin. So lovely to see you again. None of your people complained about my welcome last time. You simply showed up to eat me out of house and home.”

“Well, if you had helped us fight the dragon, we wouldn't have been forced to impose.”

“Of course, because suicide missions are the solution to all life's problems. I shouldn't be surprised to see you back again for more. But you should be thankful that I took your people in at all; I could have left you there to starve instead.”

“Maybe you should have. It would have kept you from dishonoring my sister.” 

The two lords move closer together with each statement until they're standing face to face, glowering into each other's eyes. Despite Thranduil's height advantage, the pair is evenly matched in anger and their audience watches with interest as they volley back and forth.

“I did not dishonor your sister; we did nothing against her will.”

“That is not the point! You took advantage of her grief to make your own advances and when you were done with her, you cast her and your unborn son aside.”

“I did not!”

“Really? So I only imagined her coming to me in tears and saying that you had refused to acknowledge your own child. That you accused my sister of laying with another even as she shared your bed.”

“No, you did not imagine that. But I never meant to cause her any pain. I did not realize that our union could be fruitful and I did not take the news as well as Dís deserved. However, you left before I could apologize and I have regretted that day ever since.”

“What, you couldn't write?”

“This was hardly a conversation to be had with pen and paper when I did not wish to risk such a letter falling into the wrong hands. And I could not leave my kingdom to visit her myself, not with the darkness rising in the north and my other sons even flightier than Legolas.”

“Fine, I'll give you that. But if you want my sister back, you'll have your work cut out for you. Dwarves have long memories and she's always been the type to hold a grudge.”

“I know, but what can I do? The circumstances have not changed.”

Thranduil sounds so dejected then that Kíli has to interrupt, even if it sounds like his father had been an utter dick. “You could help us retake Erebor.”

“What?!” Two sets of shocked eyes turn toward him, but the prince stands firm beneath their gaze.

“Well, you need mother to be close by so that you can convince her to forgive you and if we reclaimed Erebor, she would definitely move back. Then you could beg for her forgiveness in person, which is the only way you're ever gonna get it, and if we told mother that you helped us, she might look on you more favorably.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Thranduil mutters grudgingly and sensing his father's weakness, Legolas jumps in as well.

“Of course it does, father. I'm sure they have a plan and we have plenty of archers now that the largest pack of spiders has been slain. Just think of how impressed Dís would be if you could hand her back her mountain and then I could get to know this side of the family. Please father, you know you want to.”

“Fine,” the elf king says with a sigh, unable to deny his sons' pleading eyes.

Then Thranduil turns back to Thorin to add some conditions of his own. “If and I mean _if_ I think your plan is workable, then you will have my aid to reclaim your homeland. But you must put in a good word for me with your sister when the deed is done.”

“Agreed,” Thorin replies, holding out his hand. 

Thranduil shakes it gingerly – clearly wondering when the dwarf lord washed it last – and then waves his steward over. He orders the elf to find his guests some proper rooms and food if they wish it, before telling Thorin to join him in his war room to work out a plan.

“That went well,” Kíli says, throwing an arm across Fíli's shoulder as he watches the two lords walk away. It's rather nice to see the two halves of his family working together when they were bickering so fiercely just a short time before.

Speaking of family, the archer turns to Legolas and asks, “I believe you said something about our weapons, and an archery range?”

“Yes I think I did,” Legolas replies before leading the company back into the hall. 

But when they walk out of the throne room, the elf prince stops short in surprise as he runs into the dwarves' burglar sneaking out from an alcove in the wall. The hobbit freezes when he sees them, blushing fiercely at being caught before running his hand through his hair awkwardly.

“So I guess this means I don't need to rescue you after all? Because I really wouldn't say no to a good meal.”

Kíli laughs at the confounded expression on his new brother's face and wraps his free arm around the halfling's neck. “Legolas, meet our hobbit; Bilbo, this is my half-brother. And I believe you're in luck because we've been promised Thranduil's best and I intend to take full advantage of his hospitality. Daddy dearest has a lot to make up for and I want to get my own licks in before mother takes him down.”

 

_End_

**Author's Note:**

> Written because of [this](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/702.html?thread=137150&#t137150), though my version is far more cracky.
> 
> I finally gave this fic a good edit. It still isn't the most polished thing ever, but at least the grammar isn't quite as terrible. And if anyone actually preferred the original version, I'm afraid it only exists on livejournal now.


End file.
